


Bad Boy

by Keysmasher



Series: Good Girl [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental edging, Exhibitionism, Female Masturbation, M/M, Masturbation, No dirty talk in this one, Sexual Fantasy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keysmasher/pseuds/Keysmasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam walks in at exactly the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Boy

**Author's Note:**

> WELP SORRY no dirty talk in this one. Maybe I'll add another chapter later, but I doubt it. I'm working on a story with actual plot now. :P

Dean licked the curve of her ear and she tilted her head back, but he moved away before she could kiss him. Sam was out getting lube (and she'd started laughing when they'd grabbed the bottle and realized there was barely any left), and Cas was apparently busy, so for the moment it was just the two of them. Dean's hands were steady on her hips, keeping her facing forward, not letting her see him. It was always a little scary, she thought, not knowing what he was doing; usually she was too turned on to really care, but she was still in the early stages of arousal, all her neuroses and anxieties fully intact.

"Get on the bed," Dean whispered in the ear he hadn't licked, releasing her hips. "Get on your back, prop yourself up on some pillows."

She obeyed, wondering just what he wanted to do. She doubted he would have told her to prop herself up if he was going to fuck her. When she was arranged, Dean stood at the foot of the bed and looked her over. She shifted uncomfortably; she was overweight and scarred, there was no way Dean actually liked to look at her body - except then he grinned, eyes dark, and she suddenly wondered if he was one of the few that actually _liked_ fat on a woman.

"You like making people happy, yeah?" he purred. She nodded, confusion ratcheting up a notch. "Here's the deal." He climbed on the bed then, gripping her legs and walking forward on his knees until he was kneeling between them, her calves settled on his thighs. "I want to see you make yourself come."

"Wh-what?" she stammered.

"Come on, baby," Dean said. "We can't do a whole lot more before Sammy gets back" - she could forget they were brothers until Dean said 'Sammy', and she couldn't say she was entirely comfortable with the idea, but she knew almost all of it came from cultural programming so she tried her best to ignore it - "and you're all tense. Your nerves are fucked, or I'd give you a massage, so come on, babe. Relax a little. Have some fun."

The only times she'd ever masturbated in front of anyone were after really bad sex. She flat-out _refused_ to fake an orgasm and stoke someone's ego when they sucked in bed, and if she went to bed with someone she was determined to get an orgasm one way or another. Most of the guys had scowled and left the bed before she finished herself off. 

Dean was definitely capable of making her come, but he wanted to see how _she_ did it, for some reason she couldn't fathom. She came to a decision and sucked her left middle finger into her mouth; she wasn't yet wet enough to finger herself or rub her clit without friction being an issue. Christ, she was actually going to _do_ this, let Dean watch while she got herself off - or was Dean letting her get herself off while he watched? Or were they letting each other do this?

She reached down with the now-slick finger and stroked from the back of her opening up to her clit, a little self-conscious. Dean's thumbs rubbed her knees encouragingly. "That's it, babe," he murmured, eyes hot on her.

She closed her eyes and called up a fantasy, one of her favorites because she knew it couldn't ever happen. Some faceless dude - and _God_ , she was pathetic, couldn't even create looks on an imaginary guy - smiling at her, pulling her clothes off as she returned the favor, treating her like she was special. Pushing her onto her front on the bed, straddling her lower back. Slicking his hands up with massage oil and rubbing it in, kneading out the kinks, cracking the vertebral spaces, paying special attention to the painful, fist-sized knot that sat just below her left shoulder blade, smoothing it out and soothing it away. Taking his time to really get in there, find the places with damaged tissue and rub them until the nerves stopped firing. That would be _incredible_ , touch without pain, she could barely remember what that felt like when it came to her back. She missed it more than she could ever describe, and coming to terms with the knowledge she would never feel it again had been a special kind of agony-

She shoved the thought away. She'd accepted it half a lifetime ago, and right now she was getting wet and a little horny. She stroked herself a few more times and fell back into the fantasy.

He was kissing his way down her back, along the scar line - telling her without words that her biggest insecurity truly did not matter to him. She shifted her hips to the side and heard a crack, no pain in the joint, none down her leg, she was good, _just ignore it._

Hands tracing up her sides as he pulled himself back to lie along her back, arousal a hard line on her skin. Heat and touch, unbearably good in her head, and she dipped a finger into the depression to gather slickness and draw it up to her clit.

She circumvented it and slid her finger to the hood instead, rubbing back and forth across the protected part as she thought about the man sliding into her, slow and sweet, kissing the back of her neck and setting a shallow rhythm. One of his hands wrapped around her wrists and drew them over her head, grip tight enough to hold but loose enough to break if she needed (wanted) to.

Her finger went back down to rub her clit directly, ring finger sliding down the left side of her folds just before the labia started and rubbing the rough skin there. Then her hand went down further and she stuck her middle finger up and in, hitting her g-spot with an accuracy born of long years alone, and she arched.

He was panting in her ear now, worthless endearments, no 'slut' or 'whore' here, this was the wrong scenario for the kind of dirty talk she got off on when Sam and Dean had her deep in herself. This was the kind of romantic fantasy she would have been mocked mercilessly for having, the type she'd used to mock herself for because romance had no place in-

She shoved that thought away, too - she didn't want to start down that road when she had a finger in her cunt and eyes on her body. She angled her thumb and pressed, the jolt of pressure on her clit bringing her firmly back to fantasy, where he was calling her 'sweetheart' and 'beautiful' and 'princess', things she'd only been called in mockery before Sam and Dean and Cas had shown her just how good talking during sex could be. His hips flexed against hers, and she slipped another finger inside herself, scissoring, rubbing herself, pressing her fingers along the front of herself and sliding them up and around to the channels along the sides repeatedly. The guy was picking up the pace, and she did too, syncing the rhythm to her heartbeat. She was breathing through her mouth now, hips circling as she brought herself higher. Her legs spasmed and drew in tight, pressing her calves and thighs together, then lifted and spread as she kept going, getting higher. Her right arm wrapped around her leg and tugged it up further, she was so close, electricity crackling up her belly to her eyes, just one - more-

"Damn," she heard, followed by the slamming of the room door.

"Fuck!" Her legs dropped back onto Dean's thighs and her eyes opened. Shaking and panting a little, she glared at Sam. "I almost had it, you fucker, you couldn't have kept your mouth shut for five more seconds?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry."

"Least you're close now, right?" Dean asked. "Won't take long to finish yourself off now."

She shook her head. "Don't know how it is for you, but when I edge myself, it takes about an hour of sustained effort before I can come. Refractory period sets in without an orgasm."

Sam and Dean both winced. "Sorry," Sam said again, putting the bag down on the table. "I can make it up to you, though."

"How?" She suddenly remembered her position - naked, on her back, sweaty, legs draped over Dean's thighs - and blushed a little. Dean bent and kissed her left thigh, rubbing her other kneecap with his thumb.

Sam grinned and stalked forward. "I'm sure I can think of something."


End file.
